Medieval Flash Fiction: The Nobility Gambit

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Sir Percy swung his broadsword over his head towards his opponent, Sir Samuel, as the two bitterly dueled on the hallowed grounds of the Grand Garden Valley. It was a wide swath of land, with few trees in sight, and nothing but tall grass in all directions up the surrounding hills before entering the borders of adjacent towns.

Samuel parried the blow with a grunt, his armor grinding as he swung a riposte move in return, missing slightly. The two had been neatly playing at swordsmanship for almost an hour now, with neither having landed more than a glancing blow.

“I say, Percy, shall we establish truce?” Samuel queried, lowering his blade and extending a hand. “Let us show the world what it means to be truly noble. For once, let two knights lay down swords and depart ways with their limbs intact!”

Percy laughed heartily, nodding in agreement after a tense moment’s consideration. “Thy mind is a clever one, Samuel, and I am happy to unite in this regard,” he mentioned as he stepped forward, grasping hands and lowering his weapon.

Suddenly Samuel pulled at the grasped hand and stepped forward, planting his armored foot behind Percy’s and pushing, forcing his heavy-laden, weighed-down body to the ground. In one horribly swift motion, Samuel grasped the handle of his sword in both hands and struck straight down, penetrating the thin neck guard of Percy’s armor.

“Aye, you are not a wise one,” Samuel grinned as he shoved the sword down, the dark crimson blood beginning to spurt upward and splash against his blade like a fountain. Sir Percy’s eyes were wide in terrible shock. Samuel shook his head, and only offered, “One cannot expect noble actions from those outside nobility!”

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